


How Much I Love You

by bizzybee



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancing, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Pre-Time Skip, White Heron Cup (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: Caspar is a horrendous dancer. Linhardt is well aware of this, but asks for his help, anyway. Definitely without any alternative motives. Definitely not.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	How Much I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Fair" by the Amazing Devil! 
> 
> Shout-out to Kasey my casphardt partner in crime 😎

Caspar is truly atrocious at dancing. 

Linhardt knows this from a decade of friendship and years spent by Caspar's side at whatever function their fathers would drag them to, countless balls seeing Caspar trip over his own feet before pretending like he didn't actually fall. 

Regardless, Linhardt needs  _ somebody  _ to practice with before the White Heron Cup, and Caspar is the only one who won't judge him for his own horrendous moves. 

At least, that's what Linhardt tells himself. 

It's definitely  _ not _ because Caspar has gotten quite… handsome lately. Definitely not.

And if it is, so what? Linhardt thinks. Plenty of people are handsome. Caspar isn't special. 

But, he concedes, plenty of people aren't his best friend in the world, either.

"Caspar," he says in the dining hall one day, his head on the table as he toys with his saghert and cream. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Me?" Caspar asks. Linhardt looks up to see him trying to balance a spoon on his nose. "Sure, Lin. What's up?"

The spoon clatters to the table. Linhardt sighs. "The Professor asked me to represent the class in the White Heron Cup." He yawns. "And it's going to be such a bother already."

"Nope! Nope," Caspar interjects, shaking his head. "I'm not taking over for you. You gotta wake up and do you part, Linhardt!" 

"That's not at all what I was going to ask," Linhardt says. "But your utter lack of faith in me is noted."

"Aw, come on, Lin. You know I didn't mean it."

"I guess maybe I could ask Dorothea…"

"What? No!" Linhardt smiles as Caspar reaches forward, grabbing his arm. "I can do it! What is it? Don't ask Dorothea." 

Linhardt yawns again, then pushes himself up. He takes his time eating first one bite, then two of his meal before speaking again. "Help me practice dancing?" he asks, trying his best to put on a bored expression. "I'm going to need it to prepare for the Cup." 

Caspar attempts to balance the spoon again, but he puts it down when he hears Linhardt's question. "Help you practice? Sure!" His instant acceptance brings a smile to Linhardt's face. "I'm the best dancer in our class," and there's Caspar puffing out his chest in the way Linhardt knows so well, "it only makes sense that you'd want me to practice with you!"

Ah, unearned confidence. It's one of the things Linhardt both loves most and finds the most aggravating about his friend. Now, though, it's entirely endearing the way Caspar prides himself on his nonexistent dance skills. Linhardt doesn’t disagree with him, though. If he does, Caspar will surely have follow-up questions. Questions that could lead to Linhardt revealing his not-at-all-a-crush on Caspar. And that's something Linhardt would like to avoid, at least for now. Research needs to be done in these sorts of situations, just as research needs to be done in all things.

He will tell him, and someday, but today was not that day. 

"Splendid," Linhardt says. "After you finish training tonight, meet me at my room, yes?" 

"Sure!" Caspar says, then reaches across the table, rubbing his knuckles across Linhardt's head. "Don't go falling asleep on me before I get there, Lin! We'll get you into shape!" 

Linhardt yawns. "I look forward to it." 

And although he may say it with an ironic edge to his voice, it's the truth.

* * *

To his credit, Linhardt takes a long nap after lunch. He may miss all his afternoon classes, but the thought of Caspar coming to help him that night greatly outweighs any academic responsibilities. 

And so, he sits at his desk as the sun dips below the horizon, blinking wearily while he waits. His bed is calling to him, as it always does, and Linhardt knows that he is a mere two footsteps away from throwing away this opportunity. 

He resists rather admirably, in his opinion, and soon Caspar is bursting into his room, not even bothering to knock as the first stars start to appear in the night sky. 

"Linhardt!" he bursts out, then stops, seeing Linhardt at his desk. "Oh, you're not asleep!" 

"No, I'm not," Linhardt blinks. "Hello, Caspar."

"I'm here to help you practice!" 

"Yes, I know." Linhardt stands, then stretches his arms behind his back. "How was training?" 

"Oh, it was great," Caspar says, chest puffing out again. "I broke two training dummies without even using gauntlets!"

"That's amazing," Linhardt says, reaching to take Caspar's hand in his. He pulls him into the center of the room.

"Right?!" Caspar says. "Oh, you shoulda seen Professor Jeritza's face. I could have sworn he smiled!" 

As he speaks, Linhardt places a hand on his hip, guiding one of Caspar's hands to his shoulders.

"Leonie was there, too, and she was clapping- Hey, wait a minute. Why do you get to lead?" Caspar cuts himself off, squeezing their joined hands. 

"Because I'm taller," Linhardt says simply. Before Caspar can argue, he says. "And we lead for the competition, Caspar. It wouldn't make sense to practice playing as the other person's part."

Caspar pouts. Linhardt resists the urge to kiss it away. "Fine. But when I ask you to dance at the Ball, then  _ I'm  _ the one that gets to lead."

"And if I ask you first?" Linhardt raises his eyebrows, gently leading Caspar into a step back, then forward. "Then do I get to lead?" 

Caspar considers this, his brow creasing. "Doesn't matter," he concludes. "'Cause I'm gonna ask you first." 

Linhardt laughs. "Alright then, Caspar." It's punctuated with a wince as Caspar steps on his toes. 

"Aw, shit," Caspar says sheepishly.

"You're fine, Caspar," Linhardt says, adjusting his grip on his waist. 

When Caspar does it again mere moments later, Linhardt resists the urge to sigh. 

It's a bit awkward, shuffling in Linhardt's dim room with no music playing. Linhardt guides Caspar as best he can, but Caspar seems bent on leading, pushing back on Linhardt's shoulder whenever he steps forward, and pulling their hands towards him whenever they step back. 

It results in a rather interesting endeavor that speaks less of a dance and more of an elaborately designed tug-of-war. 

Eventually, Linhardt gives up. He really would have liked to practice the dip, for maybe more selfish reasons than he'd care to admit, but he worries that any attempt on his part would be utterly ruined by Caspar's lack of elegance. 

He steps back. "Caspar, you're not letting me lead." 

"Ugh, sorry," Caspar groans, running his hands through his hair.

Linhardt almost laughs at the look of concern on his face. "It's alright Caspar, really."

"I want to help you," Caspar says, crossing his arms. "You gotta win." 

"I think I'll be just fine," Linhardt says. "You helped a lot." 

Caspar perks up. "Really? Good." He bites his lip. "I actually came up with a few more dance moves you could put into the competition, I think it would really help you stand out!" 

"Really?" Linhardt quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah! I call them Caspar's Secret Weapon!" 

Linhardt takes a step back, clearing the stage. "Well, then. Let's see them."

Caspar ducks his head, suddenly shy as he scratches the back of his neck with one hand. "You can't make fun of me, alright?" 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Linhardt promises. 

"Good," Caspar says, then takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders back. He clumsily moves his way through the routine, but about halfway through, he pulls up short. "Are you ready?" He asks from behind his arms. 

"I'm waiting." 

"Okay," Caspar says, taking a deep breath. "Okay." 

Instead of doing the sidestep and box that comes next, he turns, raising his hands in an imaginary spin. Then, he drops his hands entirely, moving his hips in a way Linhardt thinks is supposed to be a shimmy. Caspar builds onto it, spinning with his hands twirling in the air above him before rejoining the routine in time for the final dip. 

"There," he says, face pink. "What do you think?" 

Linhardt purses his lips. "It was certainly… creative." 

Caspar deflates. "You didn't like it, did you?" 

"It's not that I didn't like it," Linhardt says, stepping forward and brushing his hand against Caspar's arm consolingly. "You must know, though, that I can't use those moves during the Cup. I'll be disqualified for sure." 

Caspar frowns. "Yeah, I know." 

"You're an excellent dancer," the lie comes easy to Linhardt's lips, "and you shouldn't let me get you down. Once we're at the ball, I'll do your special moves. We can do them together." 

Caspar looks up at him. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," Linhardt says. "They truly are extraordinary." 

The hug surprises him. It's not that Caspar hasn't hugged him before, but it's usually with warning, or, at least, done in a way where Linhardt can tell it's coming. But this time, one minute Linhardt is speaking, the next Caspar's arms are wrapped around his waist, pulling him tight as he smashes his head into Linhardt's chest. 

Linhardt hesitates for only a moment before reciprocating, his arms coming up to wrap around Caspar's shoulders as he combs through his short hair, letting him stay in his arms for as long as he needs. 

He wants to kiss his head. Caspar's hair is so soft, so startlingly blue, and Linhardt wants nothing more than to show Caspar he cares. 

Before he can, though, Caspar's pulling back, and the tension breaks. 

"I should let you get to sleep, huh," Caspar says, peering at Linhardt's face. "You're looking pretty tired." 

As if in reply, Linhardt yawns. "Maybe. Or maybe you just have too much energy for the both of us." 

Caspar scoffs, petulant, and Linhardt smiles. 

"I should go to bed, too, anyway," Caspar says, running a hand through his hair. "I was gonna do early morning practice with Catherine tomorrow."

Linhardt hums in response. 

"Well, uh," and Caspar's face is pink, why is it pink? "Goodnight, Lin." 

He surprises Linhardt for the second time that night. Darting forward, Caspar stands on his toes, pressing a quick kiss to Linhardt's cheek. 

By the time Linhardt realizes what happened, though, hand rising to his face, the door is swinging shut behind him.

* * *

Linhardt hates competition, and he hates performing in front of people. 

Despite this, though, he feels almost at ease as he waits for his turn to compete in the Cup.

The only minor distraction is his view of Caspar, looking almost disinterested across the hall. 

Linhardt fears that he may have hurt his friend with his words earlier that week. Normally, he wouldn't care, but this is Caspar. Earnest, always honest, can never hide how he feels Caspar. 

He's going to be hard-pressed to beat Annette, that's for sure. Her usual clumsiness has been refined into a certain energy that Linhardt just knows he would never be able to emulate even if he wanted to.

Next up is- Dear Goddess, is that Raphael? What an… interesting choice that is for the Golden Deer house. Predictably, he’s terrible, although Linhardt supposes he has to give him credit for trying. Besides, he doubts that he’s going to do much better, anyway. 

When they call his name, Linhardt stands, shaking out his hands. He steps onto the stage and ignores the feeling of all those eyes on him. He refuses the notion that he’s stagefright, but, also, he hates expectations, and the fact that they are so visibly expressed during a performance has never sat right with him. 

Regardless, he takes his position. When the music starts, he steps forward, back, going through the motions with as much nonchalance and grace as he can muster. 

When he’s finished, there’s a smattering of applause, and he can’t help the look of relief in his eyes when he makes eye contact with Caspar before exiting the stage. 

He doesn’t win, of course. His best efforts don’t even compare to Annette’s skill, and, to be honest, he’s almost glad he won’t have to dance in battle. He congratulates Annette, and makes for the backdoor of the hall. He’s exhausted, frankly, and he looks forward to collapsing into bed and not coming out of his room until tomorrow. 

It’s too much to ask for, of course, and he hears a familiar, “Hey, Linhardt!” as he’s exiting into the courtyard. 

He stops, sighs, and turns, waiting for Caspar to catch up with him. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” Caspar says once they’re side by side, scratching the back of his neck. “Guess my practice didn’t help that much, huh.”

“Shush, Caspar,” Linhardt says, resuming his walk. “It helped as much as it could have.” He yawns. “I just don’t believe I will ever be a good dancer.” 

“Aw, don’t say that,” Caspar says, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re a great dancer!”

Linhardt smiles. “Thanks, Caspar. Maybe if I’d used ‘Caspar’s Secret Weapon,’” he emphasizes each word, “I would’ve won.” 

“You think so?” Caspar asks, grinning.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Thanks, Linhardt.” 

They walk in silence for a moment, and Linhardt pretends he can't see Caspar glance at him, then the path, then him, then the path. It's not abnormal behavior for Caspar, certainly, but it's one thing about Caspar that Linhardt will always find amusing. 

Linhardt's about to push his way into his room, expecting Caspar to say goodbye like he always does, but he stops in his tracks at Caspar's voice, nervous in a way that Caspar isn't. 

"Hey, Lin?" 

Linhardt pauses, turning. Caspar's blushing, scratching the back of his neck, and it's almost cute. Flames, who's he trying to kid - it's cute. 

"Yes, Caspar?" 

"The, um, dance is next week." Caspar's voice squeaks. 

"It is." Linhardt says, a small smile coming to his face. 

"I know we're not supposed to ask people…" 

"Okay." 

"And everyone's supposed to go alone, but, um, secretly, do you want to go together, maybe? And just not tell anyone? I think that would be okay, right?" 

"Caspar," Lin says, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "Are you asking me on a date?" 

"Maybe?" Caspar says, biting his lip. "Would that, um. Would that be okay?" 

"I don't think I've ever seen you this shy before." 

Caspar groans. "Come on, Lin, stop teasing me." He finally looks up. 

Linhardt smiles down at him. "Sure, Caspar. I'd love to go with you. Secretly, of course." 

"Yeah?" Caspar perks up, then takes a step back. "Wait, really?" 

"Caspar, of course. There's no one else I'd want to go on a secret date with. Were you really that worried?" 

"Yeah, I was worried!" Caspar says, crossing his arms. "Why didn't you just ask me?" 

Linhardt yawns. "When have you ever known me to ask anything of anyone?"

"Ugh. Fine." Caspar's nose is scrunching in a way that's much too cute now, and Linhardt laughs. 

"Okay, now give me your hand," Caspar says, stretching his out. 

"Why?" Linhardt asks, but places his in Caspar's anyway. 

"Uh, I told Ashe what I was gonna do and he had me read this book and in the book the knight does this," Caspar says all in one breath and then leans down, planting a kiss to Linhardt's knuckles. "And then that shows the prince how much he cares about him." He looks up at Linhardt. "Was that weird?" 

Linhardt just knows his face is well and truly red now, but he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't weird." He raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing Caspar's hand. "There. Now if it is weird, we're both weird." 

Caspar grins. "Awesome!" 

Linhardt yawns. "Now, Caspar, I really must be taking a nap. Shall I see you at dinner?" 

"Yes you shall!" Caspar says, dropping Linhardt's hand. "I'll save a seat for you and if you're too tired to come, I'll bring you food!" 

Linhardt laughs again. "Alright, Caspar. Goodnight."

"Night!" Caspar says. He pauses for a moment, then turns, running off with a whoop and a fist to the sky. 

Linhardt shakes his head, entering his room. He eyes the spot where he and Caspar danced. He smiles to himself. 

Who cares about competition, anyway? He's got all he needs right here.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Twitter @bizzybee429 or Tumblr @officialferdinand!


End file.
